


Canitude

by Jaunty



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 新ムーミン | Shin Moomin (Anime 1972), 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Anal Sex, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Incest, M/M, Mentions of Moominpappa and Moominmamma, Parent/Child Incest, Snufkin isn't sure if he really wants it or not, dubcon, possible past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 05:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19125283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaunty/pseuds/Jaunty
Summary: canitude (n.) - greyness; hoariness; whiteness-----------Here, it's like witnessing an actor finally shedding off the costume of his intended character, though Snufkin knew that the Joxter he saw around the Moomin household is genuine with his feelings. It hadn't been an act. Others may say otherwise, but he knew better. Even if his father hasn't been around for the majority of his life, Snufkin still felt as though he is aware of the Joxter's quirks and habits the minute they meet.Winter tends to have that effect too, he'd concluded.-----------Budding life awaits beneath the snow, but when that all melts, remnants of its icy touches still remain.





	Canitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WretchedEscapist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WretchedEscapist/gifts).



> This has been a request sent by a best friend of mine and given how I've recently entered this fandom, how could I resist such a tempting offer (。-ω-)
> 
> I'm sure that from the tags you've read, this will be a heavy story. There isn't anything...really too dark or graphic in terms of anything abusive but it's there. Let's just say that the Joxter certainly isn't winning Dad of the Year lmao (。･∀･) Again, this is still kinda grim and those tags up there aren't for show. Turn back if you aren't wanting to read on ahead.
> 
> To those who wish to read, hope you enjoy!

Winter has always been a _**polarizing**_ concept.

 

Unlike spring, the coldest season is shown in multiple lights that maintains its breathtaking beauty. The snow that would fall is a mesmerizing sight to see when it blankets the land in an undisturbed sheet, the flakes that fell being like little crystals to make the outside world quite magical. Frigid temperatures meant hot drinks to be shared before a toasty fire and being wrapped in comfy blankets while the winds howl outside. That was the appeal of that side of winter; the accepted form of it, anyway.

 

The cruelest side to it, however...

 

Snufkin decided that he is unsure whether he’d come to accept it, if not **begrudgingly** , as he does with other seasons. Whenever autumn is to come to an end, there is neither dread or anticipation -- _only uncertainty_. As he thought, the vagabond didn’t deny that he’s to find beauty within the world; or rather, the forest that is his home, no matter where he’s to travel to. Even the most foul could hide beauty like no one would ever expect.

 

Now, that belief is to be **challenged** when his brown eyes locked with blue ones that are at the thicket of trees near his campsite.

 

Neither spoke. Snufkin blinked a few times as if wondering what he’s seeing isn’t at all a mirage. Not a trick from the frigid season around them as the other approached him, footsteps barely audible in the snow. Mumriks has been noted to be quite light on their feet, after all.

 

“Soft as ever, I see.”

 

The Joxter is...an _**interesting**_ one. Not even Moominpappa can properly explain the Mumrik whenever he’s to mention him, but one thing that can be surmised is that the Joxter is like any other Mumrik -- independent and wildly defiant, but energetic and means well when it comes to their desires and views in life.

 

Snufkin couldn’t help but feel otherwise when he heard those words. Voice...not exactly deep but having a certain baritone to it, the Joxter stopped when he’s within a few feet. The younger of the two always took note of their similar appearances, but that’s as far as resemblance goes. For starters, being around the Joxter had Snufkin shivering, but not necessarily from any feelings of discomfort -- the biting wind has always wrapped around the older one wherever he goes.

 

The other notable feature is that the Mumrik towered over him considerably. Snufkin has met so few creatures that would have him rather uneasy due to their height, mainly having the correlation that those bigger than he meant some type of authority figure. Feral instincts of his, but Snufkin hasn’t allowed it to influence him that much. However, as Joxter peered down at him from the shadows of his wide brimmed hat, Snufkin swallowed thickly.

 

“I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to be, papa,” he replied quietly, the undisturbed snow around them all but sucking any level of noise within the forest. Winter had that effect that insures a certain peace.

 

Those blue eyes, pupils narrowed to slits, continued to hold Snufkin’s gaze and thankfully, the younger had grown somewhat used to having stare downs with his father. It wasn’t as though they are threatening _**(**_ _at first..._ _ **)**_ ; it’s just mostly off-putting. It’s like the eldest is searching for something within Snufkin but failed to find it. And there wouldn’t be much to go on as to what it could be. The wind slightly picked up, making their coats flutter for a few minutes before it calmed down.

 

Finally, the Joxter moved away to head on over to the tent, a patch of clearing near it in which Snufkin had began to make a campfire. The younger Mumrik followed after him, watching as his father reached into his pocket to pull out that pipe of his. Tobacco is poured in then held it over the fire to light it. Smoke fills the air as he took a slow inhale, indulging himself with the taste mixed in.

 

“Are you staying for a bit?”

 

The question had Joxter turning his head towards him, eyes remaining to be blank _**(**_ _yet simultaneously predatory..._ _ **)**_ before he’s to languidly shrug. “Depends on the weather. If it isn’t too bad, I’ll be off by the morning.” As expected with someone like him, though Snufkin couldn’t help this strange feeling tugging at the edge of his mind. Like there is something more to this meeting. “Right. Well, I don’t have another sleeping bag to accommodate but I have extra blankets that Moominmamma packed for me.”

 

A low hum from the Joxter, and Snufkin took it as a noise of acknowledgment. This visit hasn't differed from previous ones, thus far. That isn't to say that the young nomad enjoyed it...but it's nice to appreciate the greetings. The two delved into a silence that is broken by a few snippets of conversation. It's strange to Snufkin to see his father in general. There are times when he would visit the Moomins, and since he has the tendency to arrive either at the beginnings and endings of spring, Snufkin had the opportunity to see his father.

 

It's... **jarring** to see him in such a jovial light. He showed no semblance of the man Snufkin's presently seeing him as. Whenever he's talking to his old friend, the Joxter is all grins and talkative of stories of his many adventures. Most often than not, however, he prefers isolation and he can be found either outside in the gardens or curled up in a corner of the room.

 

Here, it's like witnessing an actor finally shedding off the costume of his intended character, though Snufkin knew that the Joxter he saw around the Moomin household is genuine with his feelings. It hadn't been an act. Others may say otherwise, but he knew better. Even if his father hasn't been around for the majority of his life, Snufkin still felt as though he is aware of the Joxter's quirks and habits the minute they meet.

 

Winter tends to have that effect too, he'd concluded.

 

Snufkin had thought about smoking along with his father as they sat upon a log next to the fire, but he decided to fill the silence between them with the lovely playings of his harmonica. The Joxter's ears perked and his whiskers bristled slightly, but nothing to indicate that he is displeased with the action. Snufkin's music tends to hold the attention of whoever happens to be in earshot of the music, whether it's out of wonder or curiosity as to what the melodies are supposed to be. Sometimes, they are nonsensical with Snufkin having to come up with the notes on the spot; other times are old favorites he may have heard of so long ago.

 

Nothing interrupted his playing nor attempted to harmonize with him as what any animal would do if they are wanting to join in. Eventually, the sun began to low closer to the horizon and the day began to show its colder side by having the wind pick up, the dusting of snow being seen around them. Soon enough, Snufkin ceased playing and brought the harmonica down as the fire before them flickered wildly. The Joxter had maintained smoking in the duration of that, then when evening approached, he stuck the end at his mouth but didn't inhale yet. He kept his eyes on the fire, the light illuminating his already bright irises until he rumbled out. “Better be prepared for bedtime. The nights are vile, and I doubt that it's to be this peaceful during the night.”

 

Snufkin blinked as he stood up, glancing down at him with a raised brow before finding the truth in his words. As one would expect with winter, the evenings and nights could be cruel with howling, sharp winds that will kick up snow into dust clouds, and the visibility is to be severely limited with clouds often obscuring the moon. It would be suicidal to try and leave at that specific time, and Snufkin knew better than to go against _**that**_ rule. He may be unruly, but he isn't at all stupid.

 

The tent flaps parted way for him to enter, the inside barely big enough for both of them. And it's still in question since the Joxter is an imposing figure on his own. Ridding of his hat and thicker coat prepared for this occasion, Snufkin unraveled his sleeping bag and the blankets that took up the majority of his bag _**(**_ _which is fine by him since he isn't a believer in hoarding personal possessions_ _ **)**_ , placing both on either sides just as his father entered, shaking off the snow that collected at his shoulders. “It's picking up out there,” he muttered as he saw the nest of blankets on one side, immediately going over to it to collect warmth.

 

“I should have known that it's to pick up at some point. You can't really trust your own instincts when the weather itself is unpredictable.”

 

 _Much like you_ , came the silent reply from Snufkin. He felt as though one wrong comment would provide chilling consequences and there may have been a few incidents of such... Snufkin wouldn't want to remember, honestly. They are perfect as warnings and reminders, but he doesn't enjoy having them to smack him across the face each time.

 

It also served to remind Snufkin that very few critters in the forest are actually adaptive to the cold. When it snows, it's like all life slows to a stop and no one could say for sure that they enjoy being out in the freezing world. It showed that here, Snufkin can truly live within solitude but the cold didn't appeal to him as much, as beautiful as it seems. With a hum, the smaller Mumrik took his boots off then settled into his bag in his shirt and pants.

 

It took a moment to settle in, mainly because just as he and the Joxter got comfortable, the tent began to quake with the winds now picking up. Snufkin made sure to tether it down firmly into the frozen ground so he held no real concern for it blowing right off their heads. Brown eyes flickered around for a moment before having them to land on his father, who's busying himself resting after having to take off his own coat and hat, tail slightly hopping every so often. The Joxter continues to be an enigmatic one, but it's fascinating to Snufkin to simply observe him.

 

The winds along with the sounds of the tent being rattled by the force had Snufkin slowly drift off to sleep, a quiet sigh all that's left from parted lips.

 

* * *

 

Something is amiss. Winter happens to be like that whenever he's to encounter an area, normally thriving with critters, that now lay barren. It's an eerie sight, and while his mind comforted him with the knowledge that everyone has gone into their homes for hibernation and warmth, a small _**(**_ _despondent_ _ **)**_ part of him presented him a scenario in which he's to always be alone. To never encounter another soul again for as long as this season shall live on. All that he would see are the eyes from nearby shadows as he's to wander around aimlessly and settle down in the most loneliest places in the forest –

 

– Much like the blue eyes that are staring directly at him. Within the tent. A few inches away from **his own face**.

 

Snufkin froze.

 

How...long has he slept? Did a considerable amount of time has actually passed or did his father somehow crawled over to his position without having to cause much noise? What's even stranger is the fact that a heavy arm is placed atop his side, grip firm around him like the Joxter is wanting to keep him in place. Snufkin attempted to keep his face as neutral as possible, but with the way his heart thudded in his chest, he's certain that his father could hear it. They had been so close that Snufkin is able to see the way Joxter's pupils seem to dilate wider as they focused on his son.

 

“It's gotten colder.”

 

His voice that abruptly broke the silence had Snufkin blinking a bit dumbly. The Joxter continued, “Thought it was best that we're to share our body heat – not even the thickest furs can provide this much.” While there is some validation to that, Snufkin can't help but feel that there is something that his father isn't telling him. He rose himself up to move away for some personal space, only for the Joxter to keep a tight hold on him.

 

It's still firm, but he can feel claws digging into his back through the fabric of the sleeping bag. “Papa, is...something the matter?” Snufkin hesitantly asked, wanting to tread carefully. Just like their surroundings, one false move on the crackling ice and Snufkin will be submerged in the freezing depths.

 

The Joxter blinked only once then he shrugged with one shoulder. “Only if you believe so, Snufkin. I'm not doing anything to you, am I?” He isn't, but Snufkin has never felt this uneasy. This is where things began to diverge into foreign territory. Perhaps this is a strange behavior of his father's that hasn't come to light yet. It had to be. “No... I suppose not,” Snufkin reluctantly agreed, nuzzling his face into the small pillow of his to distract himself from how the Joxter's gaze remained on him.

 

He didn't dare move, but the urge to turn over to avoid those eyes is gradually rising and he's to do just that before movement caught his eye. Joxter suddenly leaned over Snufkin, crawling over him then settled behind his son, casually shuffling in with him and pressing up against his back. They are now close enough to which Snufkin's nose could pick up the traces of tobacco, herbs, and a scent unique to the Joxter. The heat now spread at his face, where Snufkin's cheeks are now a bright red in the darkness.

 

“...Papa?”

 

“Mm? I told you, we need to share heat since it's freezing outside. Relax for me, Snufkin...”

 

Somehow, his words began to ease at the younger Mumrik, having him settle into the other with a nervous swallow. Many questions ran through his mind, all coming up short with answers. He attempted to calm his racing heart, stifling a gasp when a large paw now rested along his stomach. Hot breath tickled at his ear, closing his eyes as the Joxter uttered out.

 

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

 

Snufkin didn't wish to make his father angry. He's still taken aback by how quickly the Joxter has shifted in moods, refreshing Snufkin's memories of his father interacting with his friends, only to become this... _different person_ when he and Snufkin are alone. Did he... **hate** his own son? Sure, thanks to the years spent apart, there would have been no reason for the Joxter to gain some attachment to Snufkin, but even then, absolute malice for someone doesn't come without a reason, be it directly or from some outside influence. As far as he knew, the young vagabond has not done a single action to cause such treatment.

 

Perhaps Moominpappa was right. It's just the Joxter being his usual self as Snufkin too often have bouts of defiance against any and all rules. At least, the ones that restrict his freedom to live life as it is. The monotony of life that wouldn't sit right for a Snufkin such as he. However, he could never recall being this sudden. This dubious...

 

Then again, he does believe the fact that Joxters are often solitary creatures and they don't view love – as a concept – the same way as other creatures. It's...peculiar, to put it in light terms.

 

_You can't really trust your own instincts_

_when the weather itself is unpredictable._

 

A surprised gasp came from him as he's interrupted out of his thoughts when a large, warm paw cupped at his face, a clawed thumb rubbing at his cheek. Just below his right eye as he flinched at the feeling of lips along his cheek after the Joxter's thumb caressed over it. His whiskers made his skin tickle, Snufkin keeping absolutely still as though he is in the grasp of a vicious predator and a wrong move would have his throat torn out. Or an eye being gouged out. A deep chuckle rumbled from the Joxter, releasing his son just as quickly as it started.

 

“Quite jumpy, aren't you? I can see that you still have the Mymble in you – can't say I'm surprised. I've always find it endearing to see that in you.” His tone held a sort of longing that twisted at Snufkin's stomach unpleasantly. The words failed to come into fruition as he now felt that paw lowering to play at the waistband of his pants. Snufkin impulsively reached down to grab at his wrist, blinking as Joxter let out a hum in displeasure.

 

“ _Snufkin_.”

 

The words flew out before he could stop himself. “Papa, I... I don't know about this. What would the others think?” His father could only let out a soft chuckle. “My dear Snufkin, do you really think they would want to know? What they will not know won't hurt them, and I highly doubt any lasting consequences are to come from this. Not unless you're wanting to make it all complicated and telling them about this.”

 

Snufkin worried his bottom lip. That...is somewhat true. While it is unheard of for direct relations of family to become intimate with one another, it's hardly considered anything completely bizarre within this forest that held far more peculiar sights. It may have been due to how much the creatures of these lands treasure family overall, but...

 

If the Joxter is wanting to be intimate with him, surely that meant that he held some attachment towards his son? Why else would he wish to do this other than wanting to show affection? Perhaps it's even his father's way of proving as such, so it couldn't be that odd. At least, not to Mumriks. Other families may say otherwise.

 

And as the elder Mumrik said, it's utterly pointless to go ahead and confess to the others since it'll only serve to create great tension between them all and as much as it unnerves him to be experiencing this strange gesture, Snufkin isn't wanting his father to be punished. He still held some fondness for the other thanks to their previous visits with each other _**(**_ _mostly unintentional on Snufkin's part_ _ **)**_.

 

Purring can be felt and heard as Joxter noticed that Snufkin has finally relaxed, an arm is then used for Snufkin to lay his head on as the other paw is then used to push down the younger's pants to take hold of the limp cock. Snufkin made a noise that sounded as though he's whimpering, a heated sensation beginning to travel down to the very place the Joxter is stroking at.

 

Now, Snufkin isn't at all naive on what was transpiring, but this had been the first he's ever been touched like this – not even his own paw had been used to pleasure himself for whatever reason.

 

Soft pants are heard from the younger Mumrik, the Joxter continuing to purr as he nibbled along the exposed batch of skin that is shown by thin shirt he's wearing. To his disbelief, Snufkin can feel his member beginning to grow stiff, rising and hardening in his father's paw. “Ngh... P-Papa...” The Joxter made a hum to acknowledge him, his thumb smearing the pre-cum collecting at the slit along the head.

 

“Doesn't it feel good, Snufkin? As I've said, relax and it'll be alright...”

 

Soothing in tone, the elder Mumrik watched with his blue eyes alighted with satisfaction as his son steadily got into the rhythm of not only his strokes to where his hips are _ **(**_ _involuntarily_ _ **)**_ rolling into his paw, but the signs of discomfort are easing away. There's still some hint of hesitation in those brown eyes that are either refusing to glance at the Joxter or he's too focused on this foreign experience. “Do you know what to do?”

 

Snufkin nodded, not trusting his voice to work on him. He couldn't entirely focus; any outside noises have all but turned to static in his ears, only hearing his own moans and the rumblings from his father. The young Mumrik leaned against Joxter as that paw sped up the pace, now adding a twist at the strokes. “Haaa... Mmm...” Brown eyes are now closed so he can mainly focus on that, already feeling a knot in his stomach. It's like a thread about ready to snap and when he felt a particularly large bulge rubbing against his backside, it strained even more.

 

“Papa..! Gonna... I can't hold it in!”

 

The Joxter flashed a toothy grin, nearly similar to the ones would don whenever he visited old friends though this one contained a predatory shadow that would bring a chill down even the firmest spines. He flicked his wrist quicker than before, enjoying the pleasing moans coming out of that adorable mouth. Finally, Snufkin let out a long whine as he finally let that knot snap and ropes of cum stained at his shirt. His father brought himself up so the sleeping bag will open halfway, and his eyes illuminated within the dark as he took in the sight before him.

 

“Oh, Snufkin. You've dirtied yourself!” The Joxter reached down to take hold of the still flustered Mumrik's shirt, taking it off to place it aside. They would need to heat up some water if they're wanting to clean that off in the morning. In the meantime, Joxter reached down to take hold of Snufkin's undergarments to pull down, Joxter's lips being slicked by a rough tongue as he can feel those soft thighs _**(**_ _some traits he's definitely inherited from the Mymble_ _ **)**_ and the small cock that is now at half mast.

 

Snufkin barely registered the fact that he is now bare for his father to see, his tail lazily bristling upon hearing the rustling of fabrics and feeling of heated skin touching his own. When the brief afterglow has finally dispersed, Snufkin opened his brown eyes, his gaze taking note of the Joxter's eyes and how _**chilling**_ they appeared. They settled on him to the point where Snufkin held _**(**_ _a hopefully irrational_ _ **)**_ fear that he's about to be devoured. As though to heighten that horror, the clouds must have broke and moonlight shined down upon the lands, now providing dim lighting within the tent.

 

Using the paw that's still smeared with his seed, his father slicked up his own cock, Snufkin's eyes widening as he saw just how huge Joxter is. It appears that the Mumrik's large stature isn't just of his physical height.

 

“Ah!!” In his thoughts, Snufkin hasn't realized that Joxter has pushed in a clawed finger, tender in movement so he isn't to tear up his son's insides. “You're doing so good, Snufkin,” Joxter purred, watching as those thin legs are widening upon instinct and Snufkin reaching up to take hold of the bag below them.

 

“Unh... I...I hope so, papa,” he can't help but choke out, trying to keep relax as his father said while that long finger rubs at his heated insides.

 

His advice to relax seemed to help as Snufkin can feel that discomfort ebbing away for the budding pleasure that's arising within the pit of his stomach. A second finger is added and before Snufkin can protest against it, he lets out a yelp at a bundle of nerves being pressed against. The grin at the Joxter's face resembles those whenever he's to capture a bird in his paws, and apparently, he likens this to that very thing before he's to sink his teeth into his meal.

 

Groans expelled from the Mumrik as he's fingered...not roughly, but not gently either once it's clear that Snufkin has eased into it. The younger writhed on the bag, clutching at whatever he could as that knotted feeling returned. When the Joxter felt that his son is ready, he swiftly pulled out, chuckling at how Snufkin let out a keen at the loss. “A Snufkin is always an eager type,” he cooed as he pulled the other closer by his thighs. Snufkin swallowed as he felt the blunt head of his thicker cock nudging at his entrance, shuddering when he listened to the Joxter.

 

“A curious one too. Even if the thing they want to inspect is a great threat and danger to their lives, they would want to have it. To have fun with it if it means having to disrupt the order of lands.” Without warning, the Joxter pushed the head in, making Snufkin let out a cry at the intrusion. It's definitely not like those fingers. This is much more, and the young Mumrik feared that he's going to tear. Inch by inch did that length eased into the smaller body and soon enough, the Joxter is hovering Snufkin now that he was completely at the hilt.

 

“Ahh... Nngh. Papa, I...feel so full.” A quiet hiss came out of his father as he nodded, resting his forearm next to Snufkin's head.

 

“It'll only get better from here, my dear.”

 

Once those muscles fluttered around him, the Joxter started to move. Slowly at first with simple rolls of his hips until they've gained a steady, but fast speed in which he nearly pulls all the way out then snapping back into Snufkin. The vagabond moaned in spite of his mind _**pleading**_ for him to stop the Joxter. This hadn't been right. This should never transpire between a father and his son, but Snufkin isn't so sure. He is still unfamiliar with his father in how he shows his emotions – this is to be of love, right?

 

He hasn't...truly harmed Snufkin; all the touches given to him have either been out of fondness or briefly rough before they are to soften.

 

Just like now where a mess of dark hair covered his vision and he gasped at the feeling of sharp teeth scraping at his neck. A prolonged wail erupted from Snufkin when the Joxter struck at that spot that has him seeing stars, while at the same time those teeth sank deep into his flesh. Pain flared from that spot before having to crash through his body like a wave. The rapture, however, of the Joxter hitting that spot with nearly every thrust mitigated it until the sharp throbs at his neck blended with the white hot ecstasy.

 

Even as his body is trapped within this burning bubble, Snufkin couldn't help but drift his mind off into nothingness. His lips parted numerous times to voice his concerns and hesitation but all that came out were these cries and moans. His own fingers twitched and flexed at times in wanting to push the Joxter away, but instead, they reached up to curl into his father's shirt. Even his legs rested around Joxter's waist to pull him in closer.

 

Snufkin's ears picked up his own voice having to gasp out that what he's experiencing is marvelous and that he wanted **more**...

 

The winds outside has all but quelled, he briefly noticed just when the Joxter started to sink his teeth down further along his shoulder. A strained cry rewarded his perked ears as he lapped up the blood that's cascading down that tantalizing flesh that would appear lovely all torn and adorned with bruises that's to resmble a lovely painting by the elder Mumrik. The Joxter planted butterfly kisses along his other shoulder, nearly phantasmal in touch and leaving smears of blood along the way.

 

“Papa, I'm... I feel close!” That thread is about ready to snap, and it only became more strained as the Joxter left a few more bites at his chest. He rose himself up to hover over his son, licking his bloody lips as he admire his handy work. No one's to be blamed if they believed an animal has roughened up Snufkin upon first impression. That isn't technically far from the truth, and it'd be pleasing to have it left at that.

  
The Joxter reached down to take hold of Snufkin's neglected cock, timing his strokes with his thrusts that had the Mumrik sob in neediness. That build up initiated a dull throb at his lower extremities that only brought tears to Snufkin's eyes, the Joxter having to swipe up a tear and tasting it along his tongue. “Then let it all go, Snufkin,” he panted out, his pupils fully dilated and cheeks at a deep flush.

 

To finalize it, the Joxter took hold of those slender hips and hastened his pace so that he's pounding deep into his son. No doubt bruises are to blossom from the tight grip at his hips, and Snufkin's bound to be sore come the following day but that's all fine by the Joxter.

 

Snufkin's cries escalated in pitch and volume, eventually succumbing to the bliss that has now taken hold of him. “Papa!!” screamed the Mumrik as he arched his back at a gratifying angle and let loose his orgasm. Strings of cum landed on his abdomen, even a few landing along his chest. The Joxter growled lowly above him, sinking down to open his mouth wide and clamp his jaws right at Snufkin's neck, making him choke out a cry as he breeds him deeply. His teeth nearly sank into that soft throat as his thrusts became shallow when his cock pulsated and pumped out his seed deep within the other.

 

When it tampered off, the Joxter dislodged himself from his son's throat, tongue licking at teeth that are stained with blood and he hummed in delight as he observed Snufkin laying there with deep pants. The Joxter found himself mesmerized by how the bruises bloomed like flowers within spring. His paws rested along a few them then rose up to thumb at Snufkin's bottom lip. Brown eyes slowly opened to find blue ones gazing intently. Snufkin shyly licked at the thumb stroking along his lip, keening oh-so quietly. The Joxter's pupils closing its usual shape as he pressed his lips against his son's. A smile spread at his own as lithe arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer, pulling away to caress at his cheek.

 

“I love you, Snufkin.”

 

Never has Snufkin's heart fluttered like a butterfly and he hazily wondered if winter is coming to end. He hadn't been all that focused on the days that would merge before his eyes and drift by like a leaf floating upon serene waters. In fact, that is what he's feeling right now – not resting upon a cloud as anyone would want, but just being guided to wherever the current is to take him.

 

A lazy rock of his father's hips reminded him of that and Snufkin couldn't help the purr that's rumbling from his own chest as he closed his eyes.

 

“I love you too, papa.”

 

* * *

 

Spring is rather beautiful. Life would begin anew as all manners of flora and fauna pop up from the ground after the snow melts and the little critters are out and about to stretch out their limbs to welcome the season. Warmth permeated the air, and the scent of dew and grass would make one want to skip through the meadows.

 

There is something about it that denotes creation and growth – one half of the coin with the aspect of stillness and removal of existence on the other.

 

The fishing rod laid resting in Snufkin's hands, the fish having to be taking a rest before they are to come swimming down the steady stream. That was fine by the Mumrik; all the more reason to simply settle along the embankment and enjoy the sun's rays shining down on him. Laying back on the grass with the rod settled between some rocks, Snufkin brought his hat up to cover at his face, the trickling of waters and birds chirping having to be the ambiance around him.

 

He would have experienced a peaceful nap if it weren't the smell of tobacco hitting his nose in spite of his hat covering him, and at how a thin, furry appendage is brushing against the back of his paw in which it had been resting upon his stomach with the other. Snufkin casually lifted the hat, a brown eye peeking from the shadow of it to find smoke rising from a pipe.

 

Snufkin hadn't even heard him approaching; he certainly hadn't seen anyone nearby from the spot he now laid nor did he hear footsteps of any kind. Indeed, Joxters are strange ones to behold.

 

His father stared down at the creek in which the fish have started to come down, a few barely gave much attention to the bait that rested above the waters. One hand at his pipe, the Joxter settled down to sit next to Snufkin, to which he simply stared for a moment, then spoke.

 

“...Are you staying for a while?”

 

It's seldom that Joxters, of Mumrik entirely, to return to one location within a short time span. Usually, it is one long path they are to take before it eventually circles back to where they have started. Some didn't stray that far from the one place they do enjoy lingering about, others would explore the world beyond the forest. Beyond the guardianship of the Park Keepers. Those Mumrik are never to be seen within a year or so until they return with great tales to speak of.

 

The younger Mumrik isn't certain just what he wished to hear from his father, especially when the Joxter's wide, illuminating eyes turned from under the brim of his hat to stare down at him. It was at that moment that Snufkin apprehensively acknowledged at how his blood has chilled from the leering gaze and his neck dully throbbed as he swallowed.

 

“Might as well. I don't last forever, after all.”

 

A daffodil dislodged itself from Snufkin's hat thanks to a steady, cooling breeze. It landed upon the water from where it idly drifted down the river, never to be seen again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The whole spring / winter concepts have been inspired by gaydoktor / [abyssalzones](https://abyssalzones.tumblr.com/post/183300978954/since-moominvalley-is-out-now-thought-id-post-my%22)'s AU in which the Joxter is implied to be a strange forest deity that's detached and cold, given that he's supposed to represent / control winter as opposed to Snufkin, who represents spring. Is he truly a deity, and do the pair have power over those seasons?? Uhhh, who knows! This can be read either as that or just symbolism because that shit is my jam, yo （⌒▽⌒）
> 
> Y'all know where to find me on [tumblr](https://celestialvexation.tumblr.com%22), as always, if you want to leave a comment or request!


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